I Left The Hospital Under The Care Of Hospice
The bracelet is gone from my wrist.
The doors sighed open behind me
as if the building itself
had finally loosened its grip.
Home is no longer a place where I expect to recover. It is the room where I will learn the final work of my hands— to release what they can no longer hold.
There is no victory left to chase, no mountain to claim, only the quiet discipline of meeting each morning without bargaining with it.
I have discovered that courage is smaller than I imagined. It is asking for water. It is thanking the nurse. It is smiling at a friend whose eyes are already grieving.
The body, once so loud with its demands, has become an old instrument playing only a few true notes, and I listen to each one as though it were a bell calling me home.
If I have any strength remaining, let it not be spent pretending I am unafraid.
Let it be spent holding another hand, speaking the names of those I love, and leaving this world without bitterness.
I wish to die as a true man— not because I never trembled, but because I learned that dignity is not the absence of fear.
It is the refusal to let fear become the final word.
When my breathing grows light like a bird preparing for a journey no map can measure, do not remember me for the illness.
Remember that I looked into the closing evening with my eyes open, my heart unhidden, and whatever grace was given to me, I accepted with both hands.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
